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 Nov 2014 Em
Madisen Kuhn
you again
 Nov 2014 Em
Madisen Kuhn
are hands and knees that hit the floor
and crawl back towards what i’d sworn off before
weak, or brave
is it braver to run in the opposite direction
or to stay even when it stings
because when we’re in your car
i know what the crickets outside
are thinking, is it true
am i throwing white sheets over old reminders
written in dust, small whispers leading up
to an attic where all the hurt and confusion is stored
in cardboard boxes labelled DO NOT OPEN

right now i’m sitting on the stairs
with my back against the door
and i’m looking at your face, your face, your face
searching for something maybe i didn’t see before
and the words you wrote at two in the dark
made me miss you when i promised i didn’t,
and i want to stay, but when i try
to convince myself that you’re right,
that pushing you away is the easy way out,
that what we feel is a reason to keep each
other around,
i still find it hard to believe myself
when i tell myself
that i am being strong
 Nov 2014 Em
Madisen Kuhn
it’s unsettling how many people i’ve had to beg to forget me, lately. how many i’ve tried to convince that i really am as insignificant as a stranger you made eye contact with for a moment at the stoplight. for so long i was begging so many people to stay, to keep holding onto me, even if it wasn’t in their best interest. all i wanted was to be selfishly adored. now all i want is to be left alone.
 Nov 2014 Em
Madisen Kuhn
you didn’t like the way i answered the phone,
and you thought it was gross that i liked mushrooms on my pizza,
and you told me i was weird-looking when i was a kid,
and once i sent you a tattoo and you said you didn’t like it, you didn’t know they were my words that were written on her body
you told me what “too much damage” meant on halloween after all the trick-or-treaters had fallen asleep
and when i kept silent for three days after,
and winced at every kissing scene on television, because they flooded the insides of my eyelids with images that made me feel very small,
you said i was being unfair
because i was the one who decided we were just friends,
and i told you we weren’t, you knew we weren’t
we couldn’t be after what we used to be

i told you i still had feelings that hadn’t gone away yet,
you said they hadn’t gone away for you either

i pictured you holding my hand

but then you said,
“that’s why it’s easier to run from them
and hide in other girls beds.”

you always told me every thought
that popped into your head, and i used to find it endearing,
i kept telling myself that you deserved my ear,
but i really hope you have nothing more to say
because, i promise, i’m done listening

so clear off your bedside table, and cut the
blue string that’s wrapped around your wrist if you’ve yet to do so,
and stop asking me if i miss you,
because this is me saying
i don’t.
 Nov 2014 Em
Heartbroken
Ivory Black
 Nov 2014 Em
Heartbroken
I fell in love with a girl, Who's heart was Ivory Black, My life began to unfurl, And quickly fell off track.

I realized her love was an illusion, A far, ever distant mirage, And I've come to the conclusion, Her love was a barrage.

A barrage of evil hate, Sent to saturate my soul, My heart her pain did desecrate, But my love's now on parole.

On parole from her evil hold, Running to never look back, In search of a heart of Gold, And not one of Ivory Black.

When I find this Golden love, One I've searched for, for so long, My soul will fly free, like a dove, Into a heart where I belong.

I'll then bury her heart in the ground, And remove it's evil seeds, So it can't grow or ever be found, As forever, Ivory Black it bleeds.

-----Karl
 Nov 2014 Em
Jo
Grief
 Nov 2014 Em
Jo
Your absence is like a bed of sharp nails,
Puncturing every inch of raw skin.
What is grief?
A theif which steals my time,
Emotions,
Energy,
Encompasses me in a void,
With you reverberating in the darkness,
Your name,
Your memories,
Your everything,
Tangled up and thrown at me,
All at once,
with the force of a lifetime
Taking my breath away.
I claw to the surface,
Let me breathe,
Let me live.
It has surrounded me,
And I have surrendered.
I will miss you,
I will *grieve
In memory of my amazing Grandfather who passed away this week. Miss you forever.
 Oct 2014 Em
Madisen Kuhn
03:00
When I think about never speaking to him again, I picture a girl walking in a crowd that’s all moving in the same direction, and then suddenly she drops everything she’s holding and turns around and starts running as fast as she can, smiling and pushing past everyone till finally she reaches an open space and her face looks like sunshine as her hair blows behind her in the wind and she’s free she’s free, oh God, she’s free.

03:15
But then I think about walking into a doctor’s office ten years from now and sitting on a cold metal table, staring at my legs dangling off the edge, waiting. And then I look up as the door opens slowly, not expecting to see his tattooed arms hidden in a lab coat, but there he is and, oh God, his eyes haven’t changed, and I can’t breathe, and he just stands there, looking at me like an unfinished sentence. Then I’d have to let him put a stethoscope to my chest and listen to my heart and I wonder what it’d sound like, if it would sound like messy half beats of missing him. If he’d be able to tell. If he’d care.

03:30
Or maybe the next time I see him, if I ever see him again, we’ll both be whole versions of ourselves, content and in good places, our lives all sorted out and how we always hoped they’d be. And maybe we’d be able to talk about the weather and our kids and the lives we created apart. And maybe I’d be able to look at him with only feelings of pleasant acquaintance and relative indifference, not seeing the boy I fell for when I should’ve been focused on catching myself.

03:45
And I know I should find comfort in thinking about how one day I may look at him and feel nothing,

04:00
but it’s four in the morning and I don’t want to let go.
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